Chapter 2
McCaul Street
The wind howls, and hail drums on the windows with no mercy for the ones who are asleep. Letting out yet another deep sigh, I turn in bed.
The scene from earlier today repeats itself in my head every time I close my eyes. I shouldn't have concentrated on the amount of red mixing itself with the freshly fallen rain. The colour reminds me of too much, but only one memory that still haunts me again and again. The way my parents were laying on the kitchen floor, their limbs sprayed out, and their eyes still wide open.
The people who were lucky enough to grow up in a normal, healthy environment aren't thankful enough, and yet, I do pity them. When they leave their childhood house and go in the big world, they don't know even the smallest danger that awaits them. It's like sending unprepared soldiers to battle. Many survive, though, which can't be said from my collogues. It surprises me till this day that I'm still breathing. I did earn myself many scars in cruel ways, but I'm still here. And I intend to stay here.
When the falling of the hail finally lessens, I decide I've tried long enough to sleep. A rosy hue is already across the sky as I curl my fingers around the hot cup of tea that I quickly prepared. The hot substance doesn't bother me when I take a sip earlier than other humans would. I breathe in and out deeply, enjoying the minty smell in the air, coming from the tea.
Even that reminds me of Jil, and I almost scowl, hating to see her in front of my eyes again. She hates tea, and that's why I was never allowed to drink it back at The Hole Of The Vipers. Jil drank–and probably still does–whiskey. Even in the morning. And yet, she never got drunk enough to lose a fight. She'd never let her guard down like that. She was the Chief of The Hole Of The Vipers, after all. There were always assassins ready to sneak up behind your back and try to put a bullet through your head. If they weren't so frightened of her, they might've killed her many, many years ago. Thanks to that fear, she now is a record setter. No other chief has ruled the Vipers as long as her.
Of course, I was never allowed to have any kind of alcoholic substance. So, coffee it was.
I had to be strong and awake.
I had to be an assassin.
And they tried to make me one–really tried. But I like to believe they never succeeded in truly making me one. Yes, I have the fighting skills, the knowledge of the best ways of killing humans, and the ability to survive through the hardest situations. But assassins are required to kill in order to really become one, and since I fled, I'm no real assassin.
Next to that, I am a real Viper. That can't be denied.
I don't mind that I can't kill a person–or won't kill one. That showed me a path that lead to this calm life. It opened a whole new world for me, and a normal one. Ignoring the fact that I've witnessed a murder just today, everything in my life is normal now. Francis, the lazy cat; Morgana, my girlfriend who doesn't even suspect a thing about my past; my friends; high school; our apartment; and overall just Toronto. Our apartment isn't big at all, but it's perfect. It's filled with paintings and drawings of Mor. They make me love this place of ours even more.
In general, I just love the life I have here.
And that's why I'm so afraid of losing it.
An arm curls around my waist, and I almost flinch away, the ways of The Hole Of The Vipers remain unforgotten. A smile appears on my lips, and, for just a moment, all the worries of Jil and her Vipers melt away. I forget them.
"You're awake early," Mor states in her morning voice. One of her brown locks falls in front of her eyes, and I reach for it, curling it around my finger. A soft smile of hers greets me, and I get reminded of the day that I met her.
It was a rainy day, not very different from today, and it wasn't long after I fled from Jil and my order. I kind of ran into her on a frat party when she was with her friends, who are now my friends, too. Back then, I didn't even know what a frat party was, but I saw a house full of people and lights, and I just had to go there.
I got drunk for the first time, danced like I had never done so before, and I finally communicated with people my own age. The sweaty bodies touched me as I twirled around and around with my hands practically everywhere in the air. I felt free. Finally.
That's when Mor ran into me, on the dancefloor. She was just crossing it, holding a cup with something alcoholic in her hand. The liquid ruined the only clothes I possessed. Mor felt so awful, so she kept apologizing. I reassured her while simply laughing the accident off, told her I as perfectly fine, but she wasn't having any of it. Determined to make up for it, she invited me to a cozy, small café the next day.
I didn't have much–barely anything, actually. My only way of getting fresh clothes was by taking them. Stealing out of shops wasn't it for me. It'd be too simple to land in the hands of policemen, and then it wouldn't take long until Jil got her hands on me again. I didn't want that, so I stole out of people's houses. Only then could I take baths, showers, and get new stuff. It was far from a perfect life, but again, I felt more free than I had ever done before.
So, with a stolen but fitting jeans and sweatshirt, I went to the café, and there she was. And I had fun–maybe even more fun than getting drunk. We talked about the accident, but really, we both didn't remember much.
We went on another rendez-vous, and after that one, we saw each other again and again. Now, we're renting an apartment together.
Now, I've got to pretend that I wasn't trained to be a killer.
"Why were you so troubled last night?" Mor asks me as she, too, fills her a cup of freshly made tea. As she pours, her eyes stay on me. Even though I'm watching Toronto wake up, I can feel it.
"I wasn't," I tell her, but when the words leave my lips, I know they aren't believable.
"That's not true," Mor says, and I nod in defeat. I lie to her too many times already, so I won't lie for one restless night. It's hardly something to bother lying for. "You turned quite a lot. I was worried, Sam." Only now do I notice the frown on her face, and I force myself to attempt to smile.
It works–I smile, ignoring how the blood on the man's lips flashes in front of my eyes again. It could've been Mor, I remind myself right before I say, "I'm only worrying a little."
"What's there to worry about?" she asks, taking a sip of her still hot tea. Mor has heard about the disappearances–everyone has–but it's in her nature to assume she's going to be safe. She's one who rarely worries for herself, but when she sees me having a rough day, she does everything to make the twinkles in my eyes appear again.
"I've got a rough day today," I tell her in a calm voice, but at the same time, I want to scream everything! I don't. My lips don't even part again.
It doesn't take long for Morgana to leave after preparing herself for the day to come. I wave gently, already thinking of tonight, when we'll see each other again at the pub after a day at different schools.
-
"Drink up, Sam!" Lucas giggles loudly as he presses a cup of some green-looking liquid into it. I scrunch up my nose as I smell it. It's something strong–that's for sure. My eyes fall on Lucas again, who's already completely wasted, and we haven't even entered the pub yet.
"I'll wait a little while longer," I tell him, shaking my head.
Lucas only shrugs before grabbing the cup back and drinking it, only swallowing once. His hand goes through his dark hair, his eyes on the empty street now. "When is our girl coming?"
Tess, the only one who isn't wasted apart from me, rolls her eyes while a smile lights up her face. "Don't you even complain," she says, giving Lucas a playful bump. It seems she forgot how much Lucas has already drank, because, even though the hit wasn't that hard, Lucas stumbles backward. His eyes widen right before his back collides with the hard street.
"Damn it, Tess." He groans loudly, throwing his head back, and David and Jude burst out laughing. The sound echoes through the whole street, and I guess the streets beyond this one, too. They walk up to him, and help him up, all three having a hard time to stand on their feet.
"Yes, Luc," Jude says, sticking out her tongue at him once he's properly standing up again. "Sam is only waiting for her boo."
"She's late," I murmur as I take in how wasted Jude already is. With her glossy eyes, she sends me a wink, and I crack up, too.
"But can't we wait–" Lucas almost falls forward again. Luckily for him, Tess keeps him up by curling her arm around his. He accepts her help without a doubt. "Inside?" he finishes his question. "We'll freeze to death."
"You won't die so easily, Luc," I tell him, holding back a laugh now. I don't want to laugh in his face because of the way his body is awfully trained to handle extreme warmth and coldness.
I know he won't die so easily, because I've been there.
"I'm very close, though," Lucas mumbles, letting his head droop.
Tess locks eyes with me, waiting for a response. I nod as I cock my head to the pub right next to us. "I'll wait here. You guys can go ahead."
No one complains or offers to stay outside with me, mainly because they're all too cold. I don't mind. My fingers dig into my jacket's pocket once I'm alone on the side of street, and I grab my phone. Only the sound of pigeons' cooing sounds are audible, together with some honking in a street further away, before the device starts to call Mor.
Mor hates being late, and when she is, she calls or sends a message. And I know Mor will come and that I shouldn't be worried, but still, there's something about today that makes my stomach turn. My thoughts haven't left the assassin... and the blood. Even now he's somewhere out there, and I just hope he's far away from where Mor is right now.
My worries weren't necessary, I realize when she accepts the call.
"Sam?" her voice sounds, quivering. I almost gasp, since I've never heard her so stressed like this. Her breathing is shallow, and hearing it, shills go down my spine.
"Yes," I manage to get out. Then I shake my shoulders lose, as if preparing myself for what's coming now. "Where are you? You're pretty late."
"Few streets away," she whispers in the speaker between her heavy breathing. "But..."
And then there's silence. Nothing else, just silence. My heart falls–I think I almost fall right on the empty street, too. Unable to do anything else, I press the phone harder against my ear, needing to hear Mor say she's all right.
Maybe something in me already knew that she wasn't, because when she says, "I think I'm being followed," a sudden high comes over me instead of paranoia or disbelief. My body reacts to the current situation, trained to do so for many years.
"Mor, where are you?"
The strong, wild feeling increases, and I realize that even without it, I'd fight. Nothing will happen to Mor, I'll make sure of that.
"McCaul street. Come quickly, please," Mor begs, her voice even shakier than it was before. Then she lays off the call, and that's all it takes for my body to react even more. I don't go into the pub to tell our friends that I'm leaving. I don't have time for it at the moment. Now, only Mor counts.
So, I run for it. My heartbeat races when I start to sprint. It isn't that far, so if I can handle this speed until I see Mor again. I'll be there on time if I don't go any slower. And Mor will be okay.
That's why I hurry myself through the dark streets, through the rain. No one else is outside right now, and I get reminded of the murder scene just yesterday. There's rain, and no one is outside. The same, the same, the same, I repeat the words in my head. Every one of them is an extra push to get me to move quicker.
Wind howls in my ear, and I ignore it, together with my dripping wet hair that's now flying over my shoulder.
I arrive in the street, and I narrow my eyes, only able to see the flickering lanterns that already make my head hurt. And I've got to admit that, now, a fright does make sure a certain tightness bothers my stomach. I'm not frightened for myself–I can handle everyone who throws themselves at me. No. I'm afraid for Morgana.
My eyes scan the street, but I can't see much. I throw my dripping hair behind my shoulders again as I start to walk further between the parked cars.
"Mor," I say while trying to catch my breath.
No response comes. There's no Morgana calling back.
"Are you here, Mor?" I try again, and my lips tremble when I do so. "Mor?"
Again, no response.
Soaked, I stop in my footsteps, and realize I'm calling my girlfriend who isn't here.
Ignoring the unwelcomed need to yank off my hair, I grab my phone out of my pocket once more. This time, I do so with shaking hands. My fingers practically fly over the screen, and only several seconds later, the beeping starts.
But Mor doesn't take the call.
Instead, a device's ringing sounds from somewhere deeper in the street, and without a doubt, I head for it. A cold gust of wind attacks my already stinging eyes. I ignore them, and I keep them open, ready to attack anyone if it's necessary.
My worst fears are confirmed when I notice Mor's phone on the sidewalk, right next to a mailbox out of stone. It surprises me that it's still intact–especially with the rain. I'd have expected it to have shut down moments ago.
I grab the phone, and hot tears threaten to spill when I realize that I'm too late. There's no sign of Mor–of anyone. My eyes focus on the ground beneath my feet, as I force myself to think. If she's been attacked, if the assassin took her here, then there must be blood.
Once again, my eyes scan the ground, but it doesn't help. If there was blood, it already washed away, thanks to the rain now pouring down, making hard splatters audible.
When my legs give up, I fall to my knees with Mor's phone right in my hand. I'm pretty sure the screen breaks because of my grip on it. My knuckles have already turned white. My jeans sucks up the rain quickly, but I stay still. After all, I'm already soaked, what's a little more?
My whole life I've been trained to be strong and unbreakable, but I let the tears stream down my cheeks. Jil would go crazy, knowing that this action broke me in just a fraction of a second. But maybe that was her goal. Maybe Jil did find me. Maybe it was all a game in her mind.
Nothing changes on the outside, but inside of me, something does, because I jump on my feet. The sadness is still there, breaking me down bit by bit. But I won't let it anymore. Jil taught me many things–which she probably regrets teaching me now. And I never forget any lesson of hers. Not even this one.
I stash both phones into my jacket's pockets–each in one. Then I stare at the darkness that, when I was only a kid, used to scare me. Now, I welcome it, knowing there are things that I fear way more than the darkness.
So, now, the darkness doesn't make sure I get goosebumps all over my body.
The want for revenge does.